


October Writing Challenge

by SwallowsSong



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angels, Each chapter is a different day, Kit Colghain, October Writing, October Writing Prompts, SCRC AU, Second Child Restless Child AU, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowsSong/pseuds/SwallowsSong
Summary: This is my alternative to Whumptober 2020, because while I write sickfic, I don't really write true whump.Anyway, each chapter will be a different day's prompt, all within the Second Child Restless Child universe. I'm exited to add some extras to Kit's story!
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Angels

Kit reached up to touch her bruising cheek, side aching each time she took a breath. They'd known the unsub wouldn't attack the child unless provoked, but forgot in the moment that Morgan should have led, not Kit. The trigger lied with the mother.

The red headed mother.

Morgan took him down, but not before she and the unsub were already engaged. He'd landed a few good hits. She’d landed more.

Kit had been the one to pull Heaven Wilcox, their seven year old victim, out of the cellar. 

Once the child was safely in the arms of her mother, she hadn’t even remembered she’d been involved in a fistfight. It was only when Reid grabbed her face, tilting her head and tattling to Hotch that she’d been hit, that she started to recognize the pain that was pulsing from the initial point of contact. That was the best hit he got, anyway. It had taken Morgan supporting her story for them to let her go without being looked over by EMS, and she couldn’t have been happier to head to the precinct, grab their stuff, and get on the jet.

The profile had been right, and they'd really needed a win.

Mildred Wilcox had been crying and thanking them for saving her granddaughter for at least four and a half minutes, and Kit was starting to feel everyone else’s discomfort compounding with her own. The elderly woman already kept them ten minutes before that, telling rapid story after rapid story of sweet little Heaven before she'd burst into tears. No one had been so rude as to stop her.

“We were happy to help, ma’am,” JJ said,  _ again _ , but the woman only released her hold on Morgan to swallow Reid in a hug, his eyes widening and panic flooding off of him in a wave. Kit took a breath and knew she had to intervene, regardless of how badly she didn’t want to. JJ had tried at least three times, but Mrs. Wilcox clearly needed a different strategy.

"Mrs. Wilcox,” she said quietly, not missing the look Gideon shot in her direction. She could worry about that later. “Can I walk you to your car? Our flight leaves soon, but I'd love to hear one last story about Heaven before we have to go."

The grandmother let go of Reid immediately, relief nearly pushing her over it was so palpable. He'd been on edge all day, she'd been feeling it, but a sobbing elderly woman very nearly was the tipping point. Reid mouthed a relieved 'thank you' behind her back, Hotch mirroring with a nod, which Kit waved off before she took the woman's arm and gently led her away from their group.

The wind whipped at their faces as they stood outside the precinct doors. Mrs. Wilcox wiped at stray tears, but they sprang anew as she looked Kit right in the eye.

"I think you were sent to be her guardian angel, Agent Colghain.” There was confidence around her, and Kit had to blink several times to understand what she was implying.

"I, um. What?"

"Heaven. Her parents named her Heaven, and today, you were her guardian angel. You got her away from that man. You saved her."

_ Oh. Oh no. _

Reid had done that, actually. If he hadn’t been able to line up the geographical profile with Heaven’s last known location,  _ and _ reverse profile through victimology that he’d be within half a mile of the abduction site in his deceased step-father’s home, they never would have found her.

And, without Hotch working with Garcia to figure out the unsub’s  _ real _ last name, they wouldn’t have found the house. Gideon solidified the profile, and Morgan helped pin down the signature at the crime scene. Plus, it was Elle that actually figured out the connection in victimology was the fact that none of the little girls had red hair, but all of the mothers did. 

Even JJ seemed to have a better grip on the case than she did. There was nothing medical about it, and she’d felt pretty useless until they’d gone on the takedown. 

"This team is the best I've ever worked on," she said quickly. Automatically. "It was all of us. We all have a role to play."

_ Mine is just a lot smaller.  _

Mrs. Wilcox shook her head before she pulled Kit into a tight hug, and Kit tried not to wince or move away when the bruising on her side was gripped too tightly. 

“You saved my Heaven. Thank you.”

Kit took a breath before she gave a tight hug back, feeling the relief, the overwhelming calm. The gratitude. 

She didn’t deserve any of it.

Normally they left her alone on the jet, which she preferred. Reid had curled away on the couch, the “jet blanket” clutched to his chest as he slept. Morgan and Elle were both asleep, Morgan with his headphones audibly blasting his eardrums out, much to Kit’s disdain. JJ was pouring over files, and Gideon was writing in that little notebook of his. Sometimes Kit wondered what he wrote about, but she would quickly remind herself that she didn’t care. 

Hotch, however, sat himself in the seat across from her. He didn’t pull out a file. He didn’t pull out a book, or a journal, though she didn’t think he kept one. He analysed her until she broke, a hand rubbing at her tired eyes. Her contacts were dry.

“Do you need something, sir?” she asked. 

“You did great work today,” he said, his voice even and quiet. They were seated the closest to Reid, and neither wanted to wake him up. Hotch was calm, but there was something else. He was reaching.

“Thank you,” she said, but her voice was tighter than she expected. “I didn’t really do a lot, except get punched. My cúpla are going to kill me.”

He shook his head. “I’ve met your siblings, they’ll be proud.” She shrugged, and he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”

“I don’t tell them about the things we do.”

“Are you worried about confidentiality?”

She shook her head, sighing and rubbing at her eyes again. “No. I’m worried they’ll tell our mam and she’ll beg me to move back to Montpelier.”

She didn’t know what he was doing, but she had wanted to wallow in her self-deprecation for the next three hours, and then take the metro before the times started to stretch too far apart. They wouldn’t be back in time for her to go home in the car with Monty, but if she was lucky, her twin would be sleeping by the time she got back. She wasn’t ready for her blooming bruises to be scrutinized. Not when it was the only thing she had to prove she was capable of her position. That she had something to offer.

Hotch watched her for a moment before he spoke quietly. “Something’s upsetting you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and the look in his eye told her she wasn’t going to get out of his interrogation.

“I…” She sighed and moved to rub at her eyes again before she stopped herself. If her eyes were still burning at this point, they weren’t going to stop. “That woman. Mrs. Wilcox. She said that I was Heaven’s guardian angel.” A humorless laugh left her lips. “An angel. Can you believe that? Gideon literally thinks I’m the devil, and this woman called me an angel.”

Hotch’s eyes softened, shoulders shrugging slightly. “You saved her granddaughter's life.” 

“ _ Reid _ saved her granddaughter’s life,” she retorted. “And you, and Morgan, and Elle, and Gideon, and Garcia. JJ had a better grip on this one than I did. I just-” 

Kit groaned quietly, a frustrated hand tugging at her braid. “I didn't really  _ do  _ anything.”

“You engaged with the unsub physically, and you pulled a terrified seven year old girl out of the cellar she’d been trapped in for three days,” Hotch said evenly, though she could feel the change. His words carried more weight than before.

Kit shifted in her seat. "I got caught on my heels because Morgan and I made a bad judgment call, and then while Morgan stepped in and  _ actually _ took care of the threat, I walked a little girl up some stairs." Her voice had started to pitch, guilt and inadequacy pooling in her chest and wrapping around her lungs like vines.

_ I don’t belong here. I’ve never belonged here. _

But Hotch just shook his head. 

“No. You comforted a terrified family. You helped JJ manage relations with local law. You led a takedown, defended yourself successfully, and helped get a little girl back to her parents.” He tilted his head at her. “And then you had the intuition to remove an emotional family member from an emotional agent, and sacrificed your own comfort to do it.”

His head dipped to nod towards Reid, who had curled himself into an impossibly tight ball at the head of the couch. 

She found herself sighing at the sight. “I could tell he was… not happy about all the physical contact.”

“And you acted in a way that benefited him, and the rest of the team. That’s incredibly valuable. You are an asset, Kit, whether you think you are or not.”

She let his words sit in the air a few moments before she shook her head. “But it doesn’t make me an angel,” she said quietly, turning back to face her unit chief. Hotch was the only person on the team she  _ knew _ had her back, every time. He wouldn't lie to her to save her feelings.

He thought for a moment before shaking his head. “It doesn’t make you the devil either.”

Kit didn’t know how to respond to that, but she felt some of the vines fall away. Her next breath came a little easier, and when she could look up into Hotch’s eyes, there was understanding. Hotch always had her back.

Like a guardian angel. 


	2. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Hunger

“You two are going to die.”

Morgan’s arms were crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in annoyed surprise. He was staring down at Kit and Reid, who were sitting on the floor against the wall in the hallway of their hotel. There were a few empty chip bags near them, one even hanging precariously from the edge of the trashcan where Reid had thrown it. Both of the BAU’s youngest members had cheered at the accomplishment, and considering the fact that it was past midnight, they’d thought it was an appropriate reaction.

“Why?” Reid said around his snack cake, and Kit giggled as she pulled a bite-sized cookie from her bag and popped it into her mouth.

Morgan gestured vaguely around them. “That’s gotta be a joke, right?”

Kit looked up at him with a wicked grin, holding the bag out to him. “Do you want one?” Morgan scoffed, shaking his head at the pair of them. “No, I don’t want a tiny cookie at almost one in the morning. Why are you awake anyway?”

“Why are  _ you _ awake?” Reid shot back quickly, but there was no heat in his voice.

Morgan watched them, both looking up at him with searching eyes, before his posture relaxed a bit. “Because this case is messing with my head.”

“Mine too,” Kit said quietly, once again holding out the cookie bag to him, “Last chance.”

Morgan shook his head before running a hand down his face. “No thanks, I just came to get some ice. Didn’t think I’d run into a leprechaun and a pretty boy.”

Reid pulled a face, but Kit giggled again, contentedly shoving another cookie in her mouth. 

It wasn’t the first time Morgan had found them like that; chip bags everywhere, some sort of sweet vending machine delicacy being torn into like they hadn’t eaten dinner six hours beforehand.

Kit was the one that had found Reid, at least the first time, with a candy bar sticking from between his teeth as he loaded another quarter in the hotel vending machine. She’d been pacing, trying to burn some of the jittery energy she could still feel pulsing through her veins before she could  _ try _ to get some sleep. Her eyes had widened when she saw him, but instead of scolding him, she’d raced back to her room.

It was only a minute later she reappeared with a sock full of quarters, and it had taken all of ten minutes for them to be sat against the wall, snack bags on the floor, Reid chattering away about whatever was on his mind with Kit jumping in every so often, but mostly active-listening. They weren’t really  _ friends _ , per say. They didn’t hang out, or even get along like she had begun to with the rest of the team (sans Gideon, to Reid’s never ending confusion), but after that first time, it became a sort-of ritual. 

In cases when they were staying somewhere overnight, and if the hotel had a vending machine on their floor, they would both be there. Acting like best friends until the morning would come and remind them that they were far, far from it.

They watched as Morgan stalked back down the hallway, turning the corner to find his room. Neither of them spoke until they heard his door close, and when it did, they both broke into peals of stifled laughter. 

“Why does he need  _ ice _ after midnight?” Kit asked, her voice full of mirth. Spencer shook his head. “I don’t know why Morgan does anything he does. I never have.”

He took another bite of his snack cake, his laughter ebbing and giving away to a contented sigh. “I love these.”

“Yeah?” she turned her body to face him, her eyes squinting through her sugar-smudged glasses.

“Yeah.”

“My favorite have always been these,” she said, gesturing to the empty, snack-sized bag of sour cream and cheddar chips.

“Always?” He asked, and she nodded, pulling another cookie from her bag. “Yeah. Monty and Ari and I did a lot of vending machine chips for lunch starting in seventh grade.”

“Ah, the preferred diet of teenagers.”

She smirked at him, shrugging and saying, “We were eleven."

Reid raised an eyebrow at her, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his sweatpants. "Did you skip a grade?"

She shook her head quickly, frowning down at her empty cookie bag. "Yeah, and we've got a summer birthday, so we were always younger than everyone else."

"What grade?" He asked, now sitting forward instead of against the wall. He hadn’t known she’d skipped a grade. He didn’t really know all that much about her, save from what she’d divulged in their midnight snack machine confessions.

"Fourth," she sighed, putting the empty bag on the floor with the others. “Which our parents hated.”

Reid didn’t seem to understand what she meant. “They hated that you skipped a grade? They have to sign a form for that.”

She shook her head, searching the ground for an uneaten snack. “No, no they hated that we skipped fourth grade.”

“Why?” He pressed, startled when she didn’t answer, but instead cheered. “Aha! I knew we had another one.” She ripped the bag chips open and grinned over at him. “Sorry, did you say something?”

He blinked at her for a moment before he nodded. “Why did your parents hate that you skipped fourth grade?”

The light in her eyes died for a moment, as if she suddenly realized what she’d said. “Oh. It’s not really something we talk about.” She busied herself with picking up the empty wrappers around them, putting it all in one pile to the side instead of strewn all over the floor. They were adults, after all, though they probably looked more like exhausted teenagers. 

Reid seemed to take the hint. She didn’t want to talk about it. But without her answering there was silence, and he hated the silence, so he said quietly. “Sometimes, if my mom was having a bad day, the only food I got was out of the vending machine at school. Especially in high school.”

Kit didn’t respond right away. She knew about his mother’s schizophrenia. It was in his medical file, so it didn't surprise her. Very few things about Reid did, and she was learning over the course of sparse conversations over bags of probably-expired chips and candy that he was less of a threat than she’d initially thought. He wasn’t some robot spy of Gideon's. He was a kid, just like she was.

“We got free lunch in elementary school,” she said finally, not quite ready to look at him. “Our parents worked in a pub, with another man that we called Uncail even though he isn’t our uncle. They immigrated from Ireland all together before Wash was born.” 

She was quiet again, but Reid didn’t speak. He was watching her body language closely, and she wasn’t quite done.

“We didn’t have a lot of money. But we got fed at school, and we were fed at home, just not always as much as we maybe should have.” She palmed at her eyes. “They wouldn’t push the grant past elementary school. Not in our district, so once we got to middle school, we were sort of on our own. Mam and dad didn’t like that we missed a year of having that.”

Kit glanced over to the vending machine that they’d raided not even an hour before, and then at the chip bags they’d blown through, piled at her side. 

“I guess old habits die hard,” she said quietly. Reid nodded, surprising her when his tone came with optimism. “They do,” he said, “But without previous food insecurity, or psychological imprinting from childhood hunger, you and I would never have started this tradition.”

She looked at him for a moment before a smile started to play at her lips. “Tradition?”

“Yeah,” he said, his smile only faltering for a second when nervous energy came off of him in a wave. “This is what, the fifth time we’ve done this?”

Kit knew he knew. It was exactly the fifth time they’d done it, and he wouldn’t need confirmation. But he asked for it anyway, and her smile widened.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I’d say that’s a tradition.” He punctuated his statement with a shrug, tossing his empty snack cake wrapper into the pile. She nodded, and when she spoke, she felt lighter, somehow.

“I’d say so.”


	3. Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Horses

“Oh _absolutely_ not.”

Kit stood with her arms crossed, face set. She didn’t care where they were, or what they were supposed to be doing. She didn’t care what Hotch said. She didn’t care that there was a local sheriff staring at her with wide eyes.

“Come on, Lep, get on the horse.”

The horse in questions was chestnut brown, and named something like, “Truffle Runner Dream,” and was absolutely  _ huge _ .

“I won’t. There is nothing in my job description that says I’m required to ride on a horse at any time. I don’t know how.”

“It’s the only way to get there, ‘cept by foot,” the sheriff said with finality, turning his horse around and walking a few paced in the direction they were supposed to be going.

“Then I’ll walk,” she said simply, turning to stare down Morgan.

Hotch wanted her to go with Morgan to the crime scene. She didn’t know why, it wasn’t like she was useful there. There wasn’t anyone to stitch up. There weren’t any victims there that needed medical attention. Morgan was in good health, so she wasn’t babysitting. There was no reason she should need to get on a horse and ride the mile or more to the crime scene.

Morgan’s eyebrows pulled together, frustration starting to come off him along with annoyance. “All you have to do is sit on the back and hold on.”

She tilted her head at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re going to tell me, seriously, that you know how to ride a horse?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said with a shrug, “You can even sit on the front. Come on, there isn’t a lot of time before Hotch comes to look for us. Do you want to get chewed out today?”

Kit weighed her options. On one hand, the horse was ginormous. She’d never been keen on horses, and she’d never been keen on big horses for sure. She also didn’t like heights. And she was in slacks.

On the other hand, she and Hotch had already argued that morning, and while she knew it would blow over, she didn’t need one more thing to tip the scales against her. And, Gideon had seemed ticked off that Hotch wanted her to go to the crime scene. Before she’d seen the horse, she’d actually been self-righteously excited. 

She took a deep breath and uncrossed her arms, fingers fluttering with nervous energy at her side.

“You’re not going to let me fall off?” she finally asked, her voice sounding smaller than she wanted it too. Morgan just shook his head. “No way. You’ll be fine the whole time.”

He looked over at the sheriff and nodded. “We’ll take an even pace?” he asked, though to Kit it didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a request. The sheriff nodded, glancing in her direction. “Sure. Just gotta follow along the path. It’s a pretty even ride, even at a trot.”

“Where the hell are we,” Kit mumbled under her breath, “where horses are the method of transportation?”

“Come on, Lep,” Morgan said, ignoring the question. He held a hand out to her before adding, “I’ll help you.”

Kit was glad it was Morgan, and not Reid or, god forbid, Gideon. Gideon would have gotten just one more reason to treat her like an idiot. The only better option would have been Hotch, though she didn’t know if Hotch could ride a horse. She hadn’t known Morgan could ride one, but nothing about Morgan surprised her. She didn’t think it ever would.

She sighed before taking his hand, allowing him to help her swing up on top of the large horse. Immediately her heart started racing. The back of the horse was as tall as she was, so sitting, her head was at least seven feet in the air.

“Der,” she said quickly, “I’m not sure that-”

Before she could finish he’d pulled himself up onto the horse. His mount was far smoother than hers had been, and he grabbed the reins from in front of her. 

“You’ll be fine, Kit. Promise.” He looked up at the sheriff and nodded, both horses starting to move one after the other. 

Morgan was giving off an easy comfort and confidence that she was desperately trying to cling to. It didn’t make sense for her to be afraid - she’d never had a bad experience with horses before. No one in her family had. But she hated the Kentucky Derby, which her parents had always played on their static filled TV when they were growing up. The horses were big, and when it showed the thundering of their hooves, she had always run from the room. 

They had the opportunity to ride horses once a year at school when she was growing up, and she always passed on her turn, which had confused her teachers. She wasn’t afraid of anything, according to them. An adventurous, trouble making child who acted first and tended to think of consequences second. Why wouldn’t she take her turn to ride the horse like the other children had?

_ Maybe because horses are huge, and powerful. Because they could trample you and you’d never stand a chance _ .

Morgan’s arms were on either side of her, and she let her back rest against his solid chest. He’d promised she’d be fine, and she knew that Morgan didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. She trusted him because he’d never given her a reason not to.

When they got to the crime scene he helped her down, though she probably could have slid off on her own. 

“Okay,” he said, “Hotch said you’d be good on this one. This victim had different markings than the others.”

“Different markings?” she asked, moving towards where the scene had been taped off. “Not made with the same blade?”

He shook his head. “No, Reid thinks they were. What he doesn’t recognize is the pattern around the knife marks.”

They walked into the scene, Kit moving quickly towards the body and pulling her gloves on. She knelt down, pulling at the white cloth until she could see the wounds. They were deep and clean. No hesitation marks. But what confused her was the markings around the cuts themselves. Those were crude and had dried blood around them. Not very well taken care of.

_ They look like _ -

“Sutures,” she said quickly. “They’re suture marks, but they’re really terribly done. I don’t think I ever did stitches this bad, actually. Not even in my clinicals. And look.” She pointed to a closer section of them. “Do you see how they pull to ovals? These were ripped out, as if they were… I don’t know? Unsatisfactory? Though usually you’d cut them.”

“So the unsub made the cuts, crudely stitched them shut and then, just, ripped them out?” Morgan asked, crouched down next to her.

She shook her head. “No, the cuts are clean. Done incredibly well, no hesitation, no issue. But these are unsteady. The suture marks are hesitant and uneven. There’s no way the person that made these cuts  _ also _ did the stitches. The difference in skill and confidence?” She looked up at him and shook her head again. “No way.”

Morgan nodded, standing up and pulling his phone out. “He has a partner,” he said evenly before the call connected. “Hotch? Colghain says they’re suture marks, but she doesn’t think the same person made them that made the cuts. Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking.” He looked down at her and nodded upwards, bringing her to her feet after she tugged the sheet back into place. “Okay, we’ll head back now.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket and nodded at her, giving a small smile. “Look at you, big shot. Now you’re thinking like a profiler.”

She raised an eyebrow, pride welling in her chest. “What did Hotch say?”

“He agrees,” he assured her, and then said, “And Gideon does too. They want us back so you can go with Reid to the ME.”

She nodded quickly, her smile widening.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

Morgan nodded, clapping her on the shoulder before walking off to find the sheriff, leaving her to stand in the crime scene and have a moment to herself to think.

_ Look at you, big shot. He called you a big shot. _

The feeling of being useful, of adding to the investigation and helping the team, was intoxicating. 

She didn’t even care that they were going to have to take the horses back.


	4. Candy Wrapper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Candy Wrapper

Morgan held out his closed fist to Kit, nodding and saying, “I got you this.”

She wasn’t really paying attention. They were supposed to have another health meeting on Friday - “ _ Another _ health meeting! We just had one!” - and she was in over her head. She’d been pulled on more cases than usual, which she was secretly thrilled about, but it was leaving her less time to prepare for their biweekly meetings. She’d even suggested to Ramos that they change the requirement to once a month, but he wasn’t budging.

He’d cited the director directly as the one who had approved her position requirements, but she sort of felt like he was full of bullshit.

In her distraction, she held her hand out to him, not looking up as she flipped the article she was reading over to the next page. “Okay.”

He pressed his palm to hers, opening it and dropping the item into her hand. It was made of soft, crinkling plastic, and she tore her eyes away to look at what he’d given her.

An empty candy wrapper.

“Oi!” She called at him as he retreated away, laughing and high fiving Elle. “I am not a trash can!”

He smirked at her, pulling his chair out to settle back in with his paperwork. He and Elle were both incredibly amused, but it didn’t seem that anyone else had noticed what happened. At least, Reid certainly didn’t, his face in a book with his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. 

“Course not,” Morgan said, clicking his pen a few times as he picked it up, “but you were in your own world over there.”

“I’m-”

“Reading, we know,” Elle said, settling on top of her desk and raising an eyebrow. “Did you just say oi?”

Kit sighed and sat back in her chair, the wrapper still held in her hand. It was from a mini Milky Way, and she frowned at Morgan’s choice. “I, yeah,” She rubbed at the back of her neck with her free hand, something she’d picked up from Hotch. “I did.”

“That’s fitting,” she said, crossing one of her legs over the other. “What are you reading?”

Kit flipped her article closed and held it up so they could see the title. “It’s an article about diet and nutrition. That’s what the meeting is going to be on Friday.”

“Spoilers,” Reid mumbled under his breath before turning the page of his book. She frowned over at him. “You all voted for it instead of Sexual Harassment training, how is that a spoiler?”

She held up the wrapper between her fingers for Morgan to see, “And, this is exactly why I put it on the chart to be voted on. Where are you all getting this candy? I feel like I’ve seen wrappers everywhere this week.”

“Garcia has a bowl in her office,” Reid mumbled again, eyes glued to the page, but clearly trying to be in on the conversation. “She filled it on Monday.”

He sat up and set his book down, eyes lighting up and voice solidifying as he started into one of his rants. “You know, more than one third of all offices have a communal candy dish, and while there is a statistically significant decrease in consumption based on proximity, there is also a difference in attempted access when-”

“Pretty boy,” Morgan said, cutting Reid off before he could really get going. “It’s candy.”

Kit shook her head, pulling a pen from behind her ear and flipping her article over to the blank backside. “Oi, no, shut up Derek. This is  _ way _ better than the article I was reading.”

Derek chuckled at her, shaking his head and picking up a file from his stack. “Your funeral, Lep.”

\-----

“Hey Kit, can you hold this for me?” JJ asked. They were standing in the breakroom, and Kit had been trying to pull her taped voting chart off of the cabinets without pulling the paint up. It took focus she didn’t have, but she didn’t know where else she could put it that everyone would see. She also didn’t want to have to admit to Hotch that she pulled the paint off the wood, so she called it a lesson in patience. Sort of a win-win.

JJ and Garcia had already been in there when she entered, talking while standing near the sink in hushed voices. 

“Sure,” she said, not really hearing what JJ had said, but holding her hand out all the same. Her other hand pulled gently on the tape, and she could feel her teeth cutting into her lip as she struggled to concentrate.

JJ’s hand uncurled and Kit felt the light weight object settle in her palm. Her other hand froze as she realized what had happened, and her head snapped to look.

A candy wrapper.

“Oi! Derek!” She called, forgetting about her sign completely in favor of turning to look around the room. 

JJ and Garcia both wore guilty smiles on their faces, but Kit could hear Morgan and Elle’s laughter in the bullpen. “Sorry,” JJ said, “We didn’t think you’d fall for it.”

“Not after Morgan did it this morning,” Garcia said with a laugh. “You were just so focused, JJ even said it twice!”

Kit sighed, rubbing a hand down her face before shaking her head. “I was focused on this damn tape,” she said, finding herself laughing along with them. “And you all eat too much candy! Since when is there a bowl in your cave?”

Garcia’s face split into a grin. “Well, after Halloween there was so much on sale at the grocery store, and I thought it would be nice. Something happy and yummy in the face of all the icky and sad,” she said simply, eyes showing the hope she was pumping into the air. 

That was one of the things Kit liked most about Garcia. She was hopeful when everything felt like it was falling down. A star in the dark. 

“I have a feeling there would be a rebellion if I asked you to take it away,” she said, and JJ nodded quickly. “Oh, big time. Elle has to be in there six times a day.”

Garcia nodded happily, beaming at the two of them. “The more visitors I get, the happier I am. Speaking of, I should get back in there. I’m running a diagnostic that should be done any minute!”

Before Kit or JJ could say anything else, she scampered off, heels clicking against the tiled floor. Kit looked down at her hand and scowled. “Is this a tiny Twix wrapper? Really?”

“They’re good!” JJ protested, walking out of the breakroom with Kit at her heels, poster completely forgotten and hanging by a single corner. 

“They’re literally all sugar!”

“At least I don’t eat the Milky Ways,” she said with a pointed look at Morgan, who held his hands up in protest. “Woah! We’re attacking people’s candy preferences now?”

“I like whoppers,” Reid said happily, a small smile on his face. 

The other’s groaned, Elle booing him and tossing a pack of M&Ms at him from off her desk. “Gross!”

“I guess we are,” Kit said, perching on her desk and dropping JJ’s wrapper next to Morgan’s. “Though, I’d be happier if we were comparing vegetable opinions.”

“Okay,” Elle said, smirking at JJ. “Broccoli is the best vegetable.”

“Broccoli is  _ gross _ , Elle, I’m not getting into this with you again,” JJ warned, hands going to her hips, and the rest of them broke into peals of laughter.

\------

“We’re going to watch this investigation, and as soon as local law requests us, we’ll be in the air. Make sure your go bag is in reach,” Hotch warned, effectively ending their round table meeting. They started to get up, Kit with her eyes glued to the file in front of her. They hadn’t been invited in yet, but JJ and Hotch were both convinced they would be within a few hours, so they’d already started to prepare. The case was strange, and Kit was unsure as to what she was looking for in the medical files before she heard Hotch’s voice over her shoulder. 

“Colghain,” he said, “here.”

She raised an eyebrow, turning and looking up at him from her seat. He was holding his hand out to her, and she reached for it quickly. He dropped a single mini Three Musketeers wrapper in her hand, and her jaw dropped open. 

“Derek!” she yelled over her shoulder, and she was only met with howls of laughter from outside the door. Her eyes darted back over to Hotch, and he gave her a smirk so small, it was nearly undetectable. She groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I appreciate how much you trust this team,” he said, patting her on the shoulder before grabbing his file and walking out of the conference room. 

She groaned again, looking down at the wrapper before taking a deep breath. 

She was  _ so _ talking about the candy bowl at their meeting.


	5. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Time

“I know, I’m late, I’m sorry!” Kit rushed into the room, only one side of her hair braided, backpack open and strapped to her front instead of her back.

Morgan glanced down at his watch, frowned, and handed Elle five dollars. Elle peeked at his watch herself, frowned, and handed the five dollars to JJ. 

Kit wasn’t done, and she threw her backpack down on the floor in a rush, sitting in her seat and rapidly braiding the right side of her hair while rambling. “Our power went out because of the storm, and my phone didn't charge either, and all the train platforms were crazy because some of the computers went down-"

"It's alright, Colghain. We just started."

She finished off her braid, a warm blush spreading over her face as she saw Gideon's obvious annoyance with her tardiness. Everyone else was on time, and she was always  _ early _ . She made a point to be early. 

Of course, no one had ever made a comment or bet about  _ that _ .

The briefing meeting was, well, brief, and Kit found herself hanging back once everyone else had started to leave the conference room. She busied herself by picking up her backpack which, because it had been open when she’d flung it to the ground, had deposited a solid majority of her things under her chair. Her eyes didn’t move from the floor when someone dropped down next to her, and she sighed when she saw the hand holding a roll of ace bandages out to her.

Wedding ring.

_ Hotch. _

“Thanks,” she said quietly, grabbing the roll and sighing. “I really am sorry I was late.”

He grabbed another item from the ground, a bottle of acetaminophen, and handed it over to her. “The storm blew out several city blocks, it’s not a problem.”

She groaned, sitting back on her feet. “Yes, sir, it is. I hate being late. It’s rude, and it’s unprofessional.” 

Hotch looked at her for a moment before he moved his legs and sat down on the carpet. He nodded for her to sit, which she was already sort of doing, but she sighed and pulled her legs from under her, instead sitting cross legged across from him. 

“This really bothered you,” he said in a way that was far more gentle than she had expected, and she couldn’t help but sigh as the residual anxiety started to ebb.

“It did.”

“Can I ask why?”

Kit started drumming her fingers on her knees. She tried to keep the fidgeting to a minimum in front of the others, but in all the meetings she’d had with Hotch, he’d never indicated that it bothered him. He’d once encouraged it, after her first close call on a takedown. 

“I… I used to be late all the time. It was a huge problem, especially in high school before I was diagnosed. My time management skills are…” She tilted her head, thinking of the right word without completely humiliating herself in front of her boss. “Lacking. I guess. It really bothers Ari, and it’s one of the things that’s better when I’m on my meds. I’ve learned to plan for it.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment before he said, “Which is why you’re compulsively early.” She nodded quickly. “Yes. If I get to the clinic, or the track, or here with fifteen minutes on my side, I can’t be late.”

There was quiet again, longer than before, and Hotch started slowly moving things towards Kit for her to place in her backpack. There was no sense of disappointment about him, or anger. The same calm stoicism that he always had pulsing off of him in ripples, but also, a lingering feeling of concern. She took the items and placed them in her backpack, exactly where they belonged, until she could finally zip it closed. 

She was still frustrated; it was impossible not to be. She’d seen the three-way monetary exchange. She’d watched Gideon’s eyes and noted the way that Spencer didn’t look at her as she rushed in. 

_ They still think you’re a joke. It’s been months, and they’ve probably been laughing at you the whole time. Why did you start to let your guard down? _

“There’s something else,” Hotch said. He hadn’t moved from his position on the floor, just like she hadn’t, and his body language suggested it wasn’t a question. 

She looked down at her backpack, well worn but sturdy, and found herself wanting to tell him. Hotch had been nothing but honest with her from the second she started working with the BAU, and she easily saw past his facade of emotionless monotony. Underneath all of that stoic ease, there were always other emotions holding back. Worry. Compassion. Fear.

She shook her head gently. “I just. I just want to be invisible. Or at least feel like I’m not constantly being watched.”

“You aren’t,” he said, but she only raised an eyebrow at him. One hand rose to tangle in the end of her hastily done braid. She’d need to redo it as soon as they were done with their impromptu heart-to-heart. 

“I am. Every day. You can’t tell me you didn’t see Morgan, Elle, and JJ exchange money over me rushing in like an idiot.”

“I did, but you didn’t see them also pass around that same five dollars when Reid ran in just two minutes before you did.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned to look behind her and out the door, even though she wouldn't be able to see Reid either way. “They did?”

“He came in a lot like you did, talking about the power being out,” Hotch affirmed. He shifted on the floor, obviously uncomfortable, but Kit didn’t even notice the hard carpet underneath them. She was wrapped now in thinking about the fact that she wasn’t alone. They’d bet on Reid too. 

“Also,” he added as an afterthought, “That five dollars has been circulating this team for a year. They bet about everything. Last week, Morgan bet me he could get Reid to repeat himself five times before he noticed he was being teased.”

Kit raised an eyebrow as a smile grew on her face. She liked the private, friendly side of Hotch way better than his G-Man front. “You didn’t take it, of course? Because you’re our Unit Chief, and a professional?”

“Of course not,” Hotch said before shrugging. “I said it would only take four.”

“And?” she asked, earlier anxieties forgotten. 

“And Elle won. It took six. She started with it this morning and lost it to Morgan.”

“JJ has it now,” Kit said. She felt the smile drop off her face as she felt loneliness start to creep in. The same feeling as being picked last for kickball, or sitting alone at a high school lunch table. 

Hotch tipped his head so he could meet her eyes. “And soon enough you’ll be snatching it out of Garcia’s hands over something inconsequential. Give it some time.”

She gave a humorless chuckle. “I’m not good at time management.”

“Then don’t let it be yours to manage. Let it happen on it’s own.” He pushed himself up from the ground and offered her his hand. “You aren’t the first new agent in a department to feel like they weren’t fitting in. You’ll be fine.”

She looked up at his hand before sighing, grabbing her bag, and letting him pull her to her feet. “You think so?”

“I do,” he said with finality, and she knew, somehow, he was right. She would be fine, it would just take some time.


	6. To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - To Do

“Okay, let’s close with some to-dos.”

A loud groan went up from every member seated at the round table - save for Jason Gideon and Spencer Reid.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s Friday,” Morgan complained, as if it was going to get him very far. Kit could have laughed if she wasn’t drumming her fingers against her thigh. She knew what was coming.

“Yes, which means these things need to be done by the end of the day,” Hotch answered with finality. Morgan seemed to deflate, but Reid perked considerably. 

“Sir, are these paperwork assignments?” He asked, a contented smile slipping onto his face. Kit could have slapped him. 

“Yes,” Hotch said. “Alright, JJ, I need you to go through the cases that came in this week and sort them by priority. Anything that might need intervention by this weekend needs to be run through my office by the end of the day.”

JJ nodded, shoulders slumping as she sent a wave of despair into the atmosphere. Kit had seen the stack of files in her office, and while it was organized, it was towering. “Yes, sir.”

Hotch turned to round on Morgan and Elle, and Kit could feel the annoyance that was dripping off of Morgan from seats away. 

“Morgan, Elle, the paperwork from the Arkansas case. Is it done?”

Elle smirked at Morgan, crossing her arms over her chest. “Mine is,” she said with confidence. Morgan glared back. “I have a few files left,” he said with less confidence.

If Hotch was phased, he didn’t show it. “Finish that. Elle, I need you to go back over the file from Nebraska with Gideon. Something isn’t adding up.”

Gideon and Elle both nodded, but Reid’s eyebrows pulled together. “Sir? What do you need me to do? My paperwork is done.”

“Of course is it,” Morgan mumbled under his breath, and Kit couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that escaped her.

“I want you to help Colghain prepare for the next health meeting.” 

Kit couldn’t stop herself before she blurted, “What?!” 

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her, but Morgan started laughing. “Is there a problem?”

_ Other than the fact that Reid is going to micromanage me while I try to write the notes for my health talk? Or the fact that I don’t need help preparing for something in my field?  _

“No, sir. I was just confused; when is the next health meeting?” She asked with caution, trying to backtrack both the annoyed edge coming from Hotch, but the obviously hurt feelings she was feeling from Reid. “I thought we had two in the last four weeks.” 

“We did,” Hotch said, “But Ramos is insisting that the first one doesn’t count towards this month’s total, because it was on the thirtieth.”

Kit shook her head quickly. “I swore it was on the first.”

“We all flew to Boston on the first, you included,” Reid said quickly, “We had the meeting about nutrition on the thirtieth at one-sixteen.” 

JJ’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “Wait, but  _ today _ is the thirty-first,” she said, and Hotch nodded. “Yes.”

“You want me to plan and give a health presentation  _ today _ ?” Kit said, her eyes as round as JJ’s. “That’s too much to do. There’s no way.”

“Which is why I thought Reid would be a good partner for this assignment. We’ll have the meeting at four, that should give you-”

“Five hours and forty three minutes,” Reid spouted before Hotch’s lips pressed into a hard line.

“Thank you, Reid,” he said, words and temper measured. “If there isn’t anything else, report back here at four.” He looked over at Kit. “For our health meeting about…?”

She stared at him for a second before it dawned on her that she didn’t even know what the next topic was supposed to be. She scrambled for her backpack, pulling her notebook out and flipping it open to the back. “Stress,” she read, and a second collective groan came from Morgan, Elle, and JJ. 

“Stress,” Hotch echoed before nodding. “Thank you. Dismissed.”

\-----

Kit was probably going to lose her mind. And then maybe her job. 

She hadn’t worked with Reid directly when they weren’t on a case, and the number of times he’d said the word ‘actually’ was going to be her undoing. Her pen tapped harshly in her hand as she listened to his spiraling off.

"The effect of, um," he stared down at her hands. "The. The effect- would you maybe stop making that sound?"

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "The… tapping?"

"Yeah, the tapping."

"I like the tapping," she said simply, waiting to see his reaction.

He'd been pushing every one of her buttons, so why couldn't she push a few of his?

His tongue flicked over his lips, his permanently  _ chapped _ lips, and she felt her skin crawl. "It just makes it hard for me to concentrate."

"Does it?" She asked, dropping the pen onto her desk. "Fine. We've got ten pieces of information here. It only has to be half an hour, that’s how I usually squeeze them in. If they go any longer, we risk losing Morgan."

"Heard that," Morgan said from his desk, peering over a file at them both. "At least you've got a project. Hotch gave me a to-do list off of his to-do list. Do you know how many things go on that list a week?"

"Approximately thirty seven," Reid said confidently. "Though, I would say he gave you four things, which is only ten-point-eight percent of his average weekly total. Considering there are seven people other than Hotch on the team, if he gave each person the same amount as he gave you, that still leaves him with twenty-four-point-three percent of the list; two and a quarter times the work that everyone else is doing."

Kit put her face in her hands, letting out a deep sigh and dramatically pleading, "Morgan, make it stop!"

"Trust me, Lep, I've tried," he said with a shake of his head. 

Spencer had a frown on his face, and for a moment when Kit looked up. She wondered if she'd hurt his feelings for the second time that day. "I didn't mean it, Reid. Ramble about numbers all you want."

"No, that's not it. I just realized that Hotch does more than double the work we all do. He didn't even give us four things off of the list, either." He turned to look at Kit and gestured to her notes. "He gave us one. One for the two of us, which would mean, based on my previous calculations, that there are seven tasks that are unaccounted for. Is he going to take those, too?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "What, would it throw off your math? Hotch doing eighteen percent more work or something?"

"Close. It's eighteen-point-nine, actually," Reid said, discontented surrounding him.

Kit blinked for a second before looking over at Morgan. "Good guess."

"I didn't guess. I'm great at math," he said, turning a page of his file. Kit stared at him with annoyed disbelief before he smirked and said, "Okay, I guessed. A great guess."

"Oh a  _ wonderful _ guess," she assured him before turning back to Reid. "Maybe JJ or Elle and Gideon took on a few extra things. Or Garcia. This is a pretty big item, too. Maybe he didn't have thirty seven things. Maybe it had twelve big things."

Reid trained his eyes on Hotch's office door. "Maybe."

"Can we finish this please? I need to look through some stuff for my clinic shift tomorrow."

Morgan chuckled and shook his head at her. "What? Working on your own list?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but smirked, picking up her pen again and starting to tap it against her palm. "Maybe I am."

"Can you please stop tapping that?"

"Sorry, Reid. Not on my to-do list."


	7. A Lost Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - A Lost Key

“In ainm Dhia!” 

Spencer raised an eyebrow over the top of his book, watching as Kit, who was kneeling on the ground, turned her backpack over and dumped everything inside onto the carpet. A roll of gauze spun across the floor and stopped at his feet while a chapstick and a jar of Vicks shot the other direction. 

Kit had been sat on the ground like that, rummaging inside every pocket of the backpack, for the last ten minutes. When Morgan asked if he could help her, she’d nearly taken his head off.

She tended to do that. She was stormy where JJ was stable, passionate where Elle was placid. Her eyes could go from soft and understanding to what Morgan called her “laser eyes” in less than a second.

It gave him whiplash.

It terrified him.

He loved it.

She added life to their atmosphere, like Garcia did, though in an entirely different way. She argued, and spoke up, and swore in Gaelic. She took the Red Line like he did. She was a badass in the field.

And she was throwing things. Great.

“Dakota?” he said gently, sort of worried that the next item to go flying would be right at him. 

She whipped around to face him, a bottle of Tylenol clutched in her palm. It was clearly her next projectile. 

"What?" She snapped, eyes narrowed and a desperate flush on her cheeks.

His eyes widened. Were there… tears? Threatening on her lashes?

"I, uh," he stuttered. He hadn't expected her to be upset. He'd thought she was angry.

He set his book down carefully, leaning forward and putting his forearms on his knees. "Are you okay?"

She let out a breathy laugh, covering her face for a moment before she sat up straight.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He wasn't convinced, but she turned back to the pile of things on the floor without another word. 

It was already 5:41pm. Kit left every day at 5:25pm,  _ exactly  _ 5:25pm, so she could catch the metro at 5:45pm. Unless she left at 5:15pm. She went to see Monty in the clinic when she left at 5:15pm. At least, that's what he'd heard her tell Morgan.

He didn't know who Monty was, but he assumed another nurse. One she was close to. One she might have lived with, from the way Kit spoke about her.

Kit didn't speak to him very often. He knew what she thought of Gideon, and while he didn't agree, he could see why they didn't get along. Gideon was stubborn. Kit was stubborn. They'd both made a snap judgment.

And then she'd made one about him, too. So instead of taking the 5:45pm Red Line, he hung around and waited to take the one at 6:15pm, or sometimes 6:45pm. He could, of course, explain to her that he  _ also _ took the Red Line, but he felt awkward that he hadn't done it before, and he knew that socially, it was too late to not be an uncomfortable conversation. 

He let her sift for another three minutes and fourteen seconds before he took a breath and settled himself onto the floor next to her. The bullpen was empty by then. Derek was gone, and so was Elle. Gideon's door was shut. JJ had gone home early. Hotch was there, door open, but if he'd heard her yell or seen anything go flying through the air, he hadn't come to investigate.

Her posture stiffened, hands going still between an ace bandage and a notebook.

"What do you want, Reid? I said I was fine." 

He wasn't expecting anger in her voice, but he wasn't expecting the defeat he heard either. 

"What are you looking for?"

They locked eyes for a moment, her skeptical green ones with his expectant hazel. After a moment, she broke, a sigh coming from deep in her chest.

"I… lost my keys."

He raised an eyebrow. "You lost all your keys?"

"No," she said quickly, grabbing for the floor next to her and holding up two different keychains; one blue, and one green. "My apartment key."

Spencer's eyes widened. "And those are?"

"My clinic keys, and my locker and desk key."

"I- Why aren't they all together?"

The blush that raced across her cheeks was so dark, it could have rivaled the crimson of her hair. She ducked her eyes to the floor, starting to sift again. "I don't like the sound they make when they all click together. It's distracting."

He found himself nodding. He understood that. A lot of sounds were grating and distracting to him, including the jingling of keys.

"Okay. What color is the keychain on your apartment key?"

Her hands halted, eyes darting back up to search his face. He smiled, uncomfortably, and she nodded after a second, giving him a small smile back. "Yellow."

He looked at the blue and green keychains again before nodding in understanding.

"They aren't in your backpack."

"I can see that," she said quickly, starting to place the medical supplies, along with her wallet and the other two sets of keys back into the various pockets of her backpack. 

Spencer couldn't imagine how she could be so incredibly organized and stable when it came to her backpack, but then lose her composure and her keys in a matter of fifteen minutes. 

He stood up, brushing his palms on his pants. "Maybe you left them at home?"

She shook her head quickly, not looking up at him. "No. I locked it. Monty is still sleeping when I leave, and after I got placed up here, I always lock the door. Always."

That made sense. The last six months had obviously made Kit more wary of the world around her. He noticed how she'd stopped walking on the street side of the sidewalk when they were out as a group at night. The way she kept her gun visible when she left to walk to the metro.

"Okay," he said, "well why don't you just tell your roommate you lost it. You can find it tomorrow."

"No, Reid, I have to find it  _ now _ ," she insisted. 

He shook his head at her, eyebrows pulling together. "Why?"

"Because." She stood up from the floor, all but slamming her packed backpack on top of her desk. Her eyes pierced up at him from nearly a foot below his own, but there was something less angry, and more desperate about the way she looked at him.

It made the hair at the back of his neck bristle, and his fingers flexed and curled like they did when he talked. 

"Ari said the last time I lost them that if I did it again, I'd have to rekey the entire apartment.  _ Again _ . And I can't do it again. The locksmith knows my name."

"The locksmith… knows-"

"Yes, the locksmith knows my name, okay? Are you going to help me find my key or are you going to stand here?"

His eyebrows hit his hairline. "You told Morgan you didn't need help."

She sighed, rolling her eyes and pulling both hands up to tug forcefully on her braided hair. She always wore two braids. He appreciated the consistency. 

"I'm willing to accept help  _ now _ and Morgan isn't  _ here _ . You are."

He'd take it. He wanted to be friends. It was easier when everyone was friends. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" She looked genuinely surprised. 

He nodded, turning towards the conference room. "They're probably in here. We had a meeting right away and you were late."

She huffed from behind him, and he heard her scampering steps to catch up with his long strides. "I had a meeting with Ramos! I was early!"

"And so you sat here instead of there," he said, ignoring her input. He knew she had a meeting, it just didn't change the fact that she was late to _their_ meeting, and he was still right. "And you threw your backpack on the floor there, and with the angle of force and the fact that the front pocket was open-"

"It was  _ not _ !"

"It should be..."

He looked back at her before dropping to the floor near the couch, tracing his line and reaching underneath. His fingers latched around metal, and he grinned, sitting up with the yellow keychain hanging from his fingers.

Kit's jaw dropped before she shook her head, face splitting as she beamed at him. "Buíochas le Dia!"

Spencer chucked, rising to his feet. He moved half a step towards her and was caught off guard as her small frame slammed into his, her arms wrapped around his neck as she stood on her tippy toes. 

His brain short circuited, and he found himself blinking a few times before his arms came down to hold around her back. She'd never hugged him before. She'd never even shaken his hand or given him a high-five, two things he hated. He didn't like to touch people. He didn't usually like to hug people, except maybe his mother. Sometimes Gideon. Less frequently, Hotch.

But she wasn't angry anymore, or upset. She was happy, and he could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest and he wasn't going to do anything to get in the way of her letting him in, even just a little bit. Even if he only found her keys.

"Thank you, Spencer, thank you!"

"Sure," he said after a second. "Ye-yeah. Yeah. No problem."

"No," she pulled back from him, settling back on her heels. Her smile was shy now. Embarrassed. "Seriously, thank you. I, um. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I promised Ari I wouldn't lose this one."

He shook his head dumbly, realizing he was smiling too. “Well, now you won’t be in trouble with your roommates.”

“Siblings,” she corrected quickly, and he tilted his head. “Huh?”

“My siblings. I live with my siblings,” she said again, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. “I should go. Ari is going to freak out if I don’t call him, I’m usually on the train by now.”

He followed her as she scampered down the stairs, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and calling, “Thanks again!” before racing for the door. 

Spencer watched for a moment before he impulsively called out behind her, “Dakota!”

She stopped suddenly, almost losing her balance as she turned. “Yeah?”

He couldn’t fight the grin breaking across his face, one of his eyebrows raised. “How many times have you had to rekey your apartment?”

Her loud laughter broke through the quiet bullpen, and he could hear the humor in her voice as she called back over her shoulder, hurrying from the room. “Six!”

Six times. She’d lost her key six times.

They weren’t even friends, but she’d hugged him, and she’d asked for his help.

And she’d rekeyed her apartment six times.

She’d be the death of him.


	8. Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Feathers

All eyes were on Kit as she paced the raised hallway near the conference room, arguing quietly on the phone and trying to stay discreet. Morgan thought that she was going to lose it, eyes narrowing harshly every time she spoke, and rolling as she listened to the person on the other end. Reid had been counting the minutes, mouthing “thirteen” at Morgan when he sighed loudly. 

Elle walked up to them from the break room, raising an eyebrow at their obviously aggravated nurse.

“Who is she talking to?”

“We’re not sure, but we think it’s one of her siblings,” Reid answered quickly with Morgan nodding in agreement.

“Why?” she asked, and Morgan gestured vaguely in Kit’s direction.

“Listen.”

Elle raised an eyebrow, but focused on the rapid speech of her friend, shifting her weight to move just an inch closer without looking too guilty of eavesdropping. 

Kit had stopped speaking for the moment, listening with her eyebrows drawn together, all her focus and attention on the phone call. She clearly hadn’t even noticed them looking at her. Elle was about to give up until Kit exclaimed sharply, tugging hard on her left braid as the speed of her voice only doubled in her obvious annoyance.

“Níl,  _ leathcheann  _ tú! Ní féidir leat dul timpeall ag bailiú gach rud a fheiceann tú ón talamh! Tá tú ar tí  _ galar  _ de chineál éigin a fháil!”

“Oh,” Elle said simply, “Yeah, there’s that.”

“What do you think she’s so upset about?” Reid asked quietly, his head tilting as his confusion caused him to start sorting through any and all of the gaelic words he’d picked up over the course of Kit’s stay in the BAU. Unfortunately, most of the words he’d learned were words she used to swear, or specific phrases or metaphors that didn’t translate well into English.

Morgan shrugged, but mentioned quietly, “I bet it’s one of her younger siblings. The tone she’s using sounds like she’s scolding a child, not arguing with an adult.”

“Are you profiling, Morgan?” Elle teased, raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head, glancing over at her. “No, I’m listening. Sort of hard not to. Lep sounds pissed.”

“Her body language would suggest-” Reid started before he was cut off.

“Alright, that’s profiling.” JJ was standing behind the three of them, hands on her hips as she read their instantly guilty expressions. “What are you three doing? Other than eavesdropping on Kit while she’s on the phone?”

Reid shook his head quickly, eager to defend them. “We were wondering what she was talking about, and who she was talking to, because she isn’t speaking in English. It’s practically impossible for any of us to be eavesdropping, because we don’t speak Irish Gaelic.”

“So,” she said, hands moving to cross over her chest, “you’re profiling her body language and tone instead of just… waiting for her to get off the phone and asking her?”

The three profilers looked anywhere but JJ or Kit, Elle being the first one to awkwardly slip back towards her desk. JJ stopped her before she could sit down. 

“We have a case. Come on.”

\-----

“So, who was on the phone earlier?”

Morgan and Kit sat across from one another on the jet; Kit’s face buried in her file while Morgan flipped through his own. They’d briefed already, but the flight was pretty long, and he was still curious. Her call had been cut short because of their case, and she’d gotten off the phone looking more frustrated than satisfied. 

She didn’t answer him, eyes still flying across the page. 

“Kit?”

Nothing.

“Colghain?”

He sighed and kicked at her legs under the table, causing her eyes to snap up and narrow. Laser vision locked right on his eyes. 

“Cad?” she said, annoyance in her voice.

Morgan knew that one -  _ What? _ \- she used it all the time. He didn’t think she even noticed. “I asked who was on the phone earlier,” he prompted.

She rolled her eyes so hard, he was surprised she didn’t hurt herself. “Oh, my sister, Lina. She’s fifteen, and an idiot.”

Morgan leaned forward in his seat. He knew Kit had younger siblings, but she’d never really talked about them further than their names. The team knew about his sisters, and they’d heard a little bit about Hotch’s brother and Penelope’s step-brothers. 

“So, what were you arguing about?”

Kit took a deep breath before glancing out the window. She stared for a moment before saying quietly. “Feathers.”

“Feathers?” Morgan echoed, and she nodded. “Yeah, feathers. She’s been collecting feathers off the ground around the neighborhood.”

She fell silent, and Morgan had no idea what to say about that. Lina, Kit’s fifteen year old sister, was collecting feathers off the ground and Kit was upset about it.

It didn’t add up.

“Why’s that bad?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. 

Kit huffed, staring back out the window. “Because bird feathers carry a lot of germs. Parasites. Bacteria. Things like that.”

“Okay, so she can wash them.”

“Sure,” Kit said, glancing back down at the file in front of her. “But my Gran lives with us. Them. She’s frail, you know? Lina isn’t thinking about Gran.”

Derek nodded, understanding where the frustration was coming from. He shifted so he was leaning towards her, his file settling down onto the table. “Hm. And you’re close with your Gran?”

“We’re  _ all _ close with Gran. Gran coming from An Mám is the best thing that ever happened to us.”

An Mám. Derek remembered; Kit had told them that’s where her family was from.

“And you’re worried that Lina bringing home the feathers is going to make your Gran sick?”

Kit stared at him for a second before seeming to deflate, her face dropping into her hands. “I know how stupid that sounds. I’m sure Reid could tell me the odds of that actually happening, but…”

She trailed off, and Morgan picked up for her. “But she’s your Gran, and you’re worried about it.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She took a deep breath before taking her face out of her hands, shaking her head slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that to Lina though. I called her an idiot, and that wasn’t fair.”

“You could call her,” he suggested. “Tell her you didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, no, I meant it. It just wasn’t fair. She was at lunch at school. Calling me to ask the best way to clean them. I should have asked her to table it until I could call her after school, and  _ then _ I should have called her an idiot.”

She looked up at him and smirked, causing him to chuckle and shake his head. “You’re cold, Lep.”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” she said, laughing quietly. “I love her. I do. Lina’s the baby, for sure, but she beats her own drum. Too curious for her own good. Rarely thinks of the consequences of her actions beyond the five minutes after she does something.” She rubbed at her eyes, blinking before adding. “She’s just… she’s nothing like me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s good. I’m glad she’s nothing like I was in tenth grade.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pry. He’d lock that away for a future conversation, because he was definitely curious, but for the moment, he let the conversation about Lina and feathers and Kit’s Gran fade away.


	9. Phones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Phones

She’d benched Hotch ten minutes before they were supposed to get on the jet and fly to Nebraska. In his defence, he’d done everything right. He was playing it very cool, and hadn’t done one thing to tip her off to the fact that he was sick. 

When she’d gotten the text from Haley, she’d been none the wiser. When she shoved Hotch by his shoulder to sit on the couch, jamming a thermometer in his ear and scolding him about the importance of leading by example -  _ again  _ \- he hadn’t seen it coming. 

And when Gideon was the one left in charge after she sent Hotch home and told him to get some sleep for once in his life, she’d been completely blindsided.

Having Gideon as acting Unit Chief was basically her worst nightmare. He couldn’t stand her. She couldn’t stand him. They weren’t exactly in a great place to be in a working relationship without Hotch around. She’d even volunteered to take Hotch home and sit the case out as well, but Hotch had vetoed her. It was a case where she should be useful, and their numbers for that month were already down. She had to be on twenty-five percent of their traveled cases, and according to Reid and his never ending babbling, she’d only been on eighteen percent for the month. 

So, instead of staying with Garcia, who over time she was coming to adore, she was on the jet, as close to Morgan and far from Gideon as she could be without looking like an asshole. Gideon was short with them, all of them, but most of all her. The fact that they couldn’t stand one another was the BAU’s worst kept secret, and even Grant Anderson had asked her once in passing about her feud with the older, well seasoned man. She’d glared at him until he walked away.

It was when Gideon started to assign tasks that things really got out of hand. Kit had been silently protesting the entire way thus far, causing both Reid and JJ to ask if she was alright, and Elle to poke her in the side really hard to elicit some sort of response. She knew that giving the cold shoulder was childish, but she could do her job in silence. Gideon himself did it all the time.

“And, Colghain. Call every flower shop in the city until you find one that sells aconitum. Garcia can figure out who’s buying it. Can you handle that?”

_ He’s making me a secretary?  _

She could help herself from saying, “What?” Her eyes looking up at Gideon with the sort of distaste and disrespect she’d been trying to stay away from the entire morning.

“It’s commonly called Wolf’s Bane-”

“I know what kind of flower it is, Reid!” She interrupted, tone harsh and eyes not even turning to look at him. Her gaze was still trying to bore a hole in Gideon’s forehead. “I’m not here to be your secretary. I should be going to look at the tox screens again with Reid. You know, my job?”

“Reid can handle the tox screens,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure you know how to make a professional phone call.”

Her fists clenched, and she almost moved forward towards him before a hand came down on her shoulder.

“She’s got it,” Morgan said. Squeezing her shoulder tightly. “Are we going to the latest scene or not?”

Gideon nodded, not looking phased in the slightest by Kit’s anger or annoyance before turning and walking away. Reid looked at her for a moment while shifting his weight before Gideon called his name, and we went scampering at the older man’s heels. Elle was already off talking to the latest victim’s family, and JJ was speaking with the local police chief, which left Kit to round on Morgan.

“What the  _ hell _ , Morgan? What was that?”

“That,” he said, voice and tone direct, “Was me not letting you make a scene in front of the entire Hastings PD.”

She shook her head quickly, fingers clenching and unclenching as she tried to calm herself back down. “This isn’t why I’m here. I could be making stupid phone calls all day long from Quantico. These people were  _ poisoned _ , and last time I checked, that’s my wheelhouse. Hotch would never-”

“Hotch isn’t here.  _ You _ benched him.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Just play nice on this one. When we get back to Quantico, you can talk to Hotch about it. But right now there’s four dead girls and one flower that’s being used to kill them.” Morgan slid one of the precinct phones over towards her before giving her a hard look. “Find who’s selling it.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t need to know about the marigolds you’re selling. Do you, or do you not, sell aconitum? Wolf’s Bane?”

She was really close to slamming the phone down in frustration. The precinct wouldn’t take kindly to her smashing their equipment, though, and she was trying to be as professional as she could.

“Oh, Wolf’s Bane? No, we don’t sell that here. It’s toxic. What about some daisies-”

“Thank you so much, ma’am. Have a great day,” she said before hanging up the receiver. That was her sixth call, and she still hadn’t found a single shop selling the flower they were looking for. Where was the unsub getting the Wolf’s Bane if not from a shop? He could be growing it himself, but the way the flowers left at the scene looked, they’d been professionally cut.

She thought for a few seconds before pulling out her own phone pushing the one from the precinct as far away from her on the desk as she could. Her fingers hesitated before hitting the speed dial, guilt coursing around her.

When he answered he sounded groggy, like he’d been woken up by the ringing. “Hello?” he mumbled. Not “Hotch.” Not “Hotchner.”

_ Maybe this was a bad idea. _

“Hotch, it’s Colghain.”

“Kit?”

“Yeah. How are you feeling?”

There was shuffling on the other end, like sheets being untangled from legs, and Kit worried at her bottom lip.

_ Definitely a bad idea. _

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “like I was hit by a bus, actually. What’s wrong?”

She took a breath. “I need some help. Gideon has me calling flower shops to find the flower that was used to poison these women, but there doesn’t seem to be a single one in the city that sells it.”

Hotch’s voice was more alert when he answered quickly. “Are they homegrown?”

“Elle said that the clipping on the stems left at the scene suggests a professional did them. I’m at the precinct, and I’ve been on the phone, so I didn’t see them myself, but I trust what she said.”

“You’re on the phone?” Hotch said, confusion in his voice. He cleared his throat again. “This is one of the cases under your jurisdiction. You should be reading tox reports or going through medical records.”

She scoffed quietly, crossing her free arm over her chest. “Well, Gideon has me playing secretary. Apparently I can’t mess anything up if I’m on the phone. At least with everyone but…” she shuffled the papers on the table. “Stacey Wright. She was super rude to me, and I didn’t even say I was FBI.”

“One of the florists?” He asked.

“Yeah. She was really dismissive.”

“Why?” Hotch said, but his voice gave something away. Almost like he was testing her.

“I don’t,” Kit started to say before it all began to click into place. “Wait. Just because the florist doesn’t sell it doesn’t mean they don’t  _ have _ it. And she was the only one that didn’t find it odd that I was trying to find a toxic flower.”

“You know who the unsub is. Call Morgan. Have them grab you before they go for the takedown. That’s an order from me.”

Kit nodded frantically, though Hotch couldn’t see her. “Yes, sir.” There was a moment before she said, more quietly, “And thank you.”

“I wasn’t a lot of help. You figured it out.”

“But you let me,” she insisted. “And you never have me play secretary instead of doing my job, so, thank you.”

There was quiet on his side of the line for a moment, and Kit almost thought he’d hung up or fallen asleep before he said, “Of course. You’re good at what you do. Have you thought anymore about starting the profiler courses?”

“Not in your lifetime, Hotch. I’ll see you on Thursday.”


	10. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - Fire  
> The Holly King and the Oak King information was pulled from a plethora of sources. Go read the myth somewhere, it's pretty neat.

"So which one of you is the good twin?"

Kit laughed, loudly, shaking her head at Elle. "It doesn't work like that."

"Right, Ari," Garcia said, "Is it good, bad, evil? Or maybe like, good, neutral, bad? How does it work with triplets?"

"Does Ari count?" JJ asked. "Because you and Monty are identical, right? Is it like, you and Monty,  _ and _ Ari? Or you, and Monty, and Ari all on the same playing field here?”

Kit laughed again. The four women were sitting outside at a café. It was Saturday, after Kit’s clinic shift, and there were no men to be seen. Garcia had called it ‘girls night.’ Kit had called it ‘an attempt at grilling me without the boys around.’ 

No one had disagreed, but Kit didn’t mind. She wasn’t ridiculously close with any of the girls in the clinic. Monty and Air were her best friends. But, if she was going to be a part of their team, at least some of the time, it was a good idea to let them get to know her.

"Ari counts, but not like that. He’s the first born. Of the three of us, at least. Monty and I came later. Like, at least ten minutes. And, because we’re identical, we were compared a lot more,” She explained, trying to keep herself from tugging at the tips of her braid. She bounced her leg instead, hoping it was masked under the table, and the other girls didn’t notice. 

“That makes sense,” Elle said, taking a sip of her wine. “So then, which one of you is the good twin?”

Kit thought for a second before shrugging. “It depends who you’re asking. I don’t think we really get on with that though. Good, bad, it’s all relative.”

Garcia grinned and made a little squealing sound. “I love the way you phrase things sometimes. You don’t get on with that. Love it!” JJ laughed along with her. “What  _ do _ you get along with? Give us something, we barely know you.”

Kit thought for a moment, looking to Elle for help but getting a shake of her head. She was going to have to give in one way or another.

“Okay, fine. There is a myth, in Ireland, about the Holly King and the Oak King. A lot of twins are compared that way, especially in older, smaller villages and places like that. Places where Irish, or Gaelic, is still spoken by most people.”

“Are your parents from a place like that?” JJ asked, now fully engaged. Elle took another sip of her drink. “They have to be, she mumbles in it.”

“It was our first language. It’s what we speak in the apartment, and at home with our parents,” she said simply. “My Gran doesn’t speak much English, so it was really important for us.”

“Wait!” Penelope said, “I want to know about this Holly-Oak-King business, and which one you, my sweet clover, are.”

Kit thought for a moment and worried at her lip. “Well, the Holly King and the Oak King were twins. They fought to be the ruler of the land, you know. Like most myths go. The Holly King rules from Midsummer, you know, the solstice, to Yule.”

“The winter solstice,” Elle said simply. Kit nodded. “Yeah. The Holly King is said to represent life, rest, lessons. But also, darkness, and coldness.”

“Like ice,” Garcia said, sipping her drink, just as engaged as JJ was. Kit didn’t think she was much of a story teller, that was Monty, but it was nice to share some of her world with them.

She nodded. “Yeah, like ice. Holly itself can be a symbol of protection. It’s poisonous, actually, but it’s used in medicine sometimes. Plus, the whole, strongest-when-it’s-darkest thing. It’s not  _ bad _ . It’s just ice.”

The girls nodded, Elle sitting back in her seat and nodding. “So what about the other one?”

“The Oak King,” Kit said quickly, mind starting to dart as she picked up the rest of the pieces to the story. “The Oak King ruled after the winter solstice until Midsummer. That’s things like growth and light. Fertility. The Oak King is perceived to be better, but the whole idea of the myth in the first place is about balance. You can’t have one without the other. Without darkness, the light would be too much.”

“Like fire,” JJ said, and Garcia nodded. “Fire and ice. Not good twin, bad twin. Fire twin, ice twin.”

Kit shrugged, nodding after a moment and taking a sip from her iced tea before saying, “I guess so.”

“So which one are you?” Elle asked, raising an eyebrow and giving a coy smirk.

“She’s the fire, obviously,” Garcia said. There was no hesitation in her voice. “Light and whatever other thing.”

JJ hummed her agreement. “Growth would make sense. Between fire and ice, I’d say fire, too.”

“I don’t know,” Elle said, “Have you seen the way she and Gideon go at it?”

“Yeah,” Garcia retorted, “And she looks like she’s going to take him out every time they talk. Isn’t that fire?”

“No. I definitely think it’s ice.”

Kit shook her head at her friends. Friends?

_ Are these girls my friends? Do they care about my past my job at the BAU? What if Hotch put them up to this? Or Morgan? Do they care about getting to know me, or is it about being right? _

“Hello?” Garcia was waving a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Kit, are you going to tell us?”

Kit blinked herself back into the present, one hand playing with the end of a braid in an effort to ground her in reality without having to tug herself down. “Tell you what?”

“Which one you are!” JJ said, grinning and popping a fry into her mouth.

Kit had entirely forgotten they were arguing about the whole ice-fire thing, and the fact that they had been eating before the conversation had come up.

“Oh,” she said, “ice. Monty has always been Oak, and I’ve always been Holly.”

They took the response in before JJ asked, “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Kit said. And it didn’t. She could feel the shift at the table as she said she identified, or had always been told to identify, with the darker of the two. The choice that people wouldn’t choose for themselves if they had their pick. “Our parents were pretty sure which we were, and Gran approved, so that was that.”

Garcia seemed unconvinced. “But being Holly would mean that you were- Well I know you said there wasn’t a bad and a good, but it sort of feels like that’s how it is. Oak is good, Holly is bad. Fire is warm, ice is cold.”

“But ice is healing too. And you can’t have light without darkness,” Kit explained again. “Monty and I work well in tandem. Two halves of the same whole. You can’t have day without night, right?”

“So,” Elle said, understanding in her eyes. “You like it.”

Kit nodded. She was sure. She’d always been sure. She liked being Holly. Being ice. It suited her sometimes harsh and cold reactions, and she wore it well. “I do. Plus, would I have gotten this if I didn’t believe it?”

She pulled her foot up onto her chair and tugged the leg of her jeans up until they could see the small holly branch tattooed on the side of her lower leg. Garcia gasped and JJ’s eyes widened, but Elle’s face broke out into a wide smile. 

“That’s awesome.”

“You have a tattoo?!”

“Does Monty have one?” 

Kit answered JJ’s question, leaving Garcia to answer her own by staring at the ink in her flesh. “She does. An oak branch, in the same spot. We got them on our eighteenth birthday. Holly and Oak.”

“Ice and fire,” Garcia breathed, grinning and looking up to Kit’s face. “I need to meet Monty. I need to meet the fire to my Spicy Ice.”

Elle and JJ groaned, but Kit laughed out loud. “Your Spicy Ice?”

“You, my Celtic creature of the night, are spicy. You have a tattoo! Does Morgan know?”

Kit shook her head. “No. None of the boys know, and I’d love to keep it that way.”

“As long as we get to meet the fire to your ice, I think Garcia will be satisfied,” Elle said, taking another drink and sitting up straighter. “Now, JJ, didn’t you have some sort of bullshit to sort out?”

“Oh,” JJ said, rolling her eyes as she subject shifted, “Yeah, I was supposed to go see my mom this weekend, but then I bailed. Does that make me a bad person?”

Kit wasn’t listening anymore, brain running at a million miles an hour. Garcia was giving her nicknames. Elle was laughing and assuring her. JJ was keeping her in the loop and talking about normal friend gossip. 

She could feel the fire of affirmation lighting up the ice she’d always decided to be.


	11. Rehab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - Rehab

The girls hadn’t even seen it coming. They were supposed to wait for Morgan, of course, but he was behind them, and they could hear the woman screaming behind the closed door. She and Elle made the split second decision, and when they’d kicked in tandem, forcing the door down, they didn’t see the unsub. 

They saw a woman, bleeding and screaming to them for help. Kit had moved without thinking, racing over to the woman and starting to check over her injuries for the one causing the most damage. Elle had looked around the small room of the house just once before she started to work on the ropes restricting her hands, keeping her hanging with just her toes touching the floor. It was loud and chaotic, and neither of them could have guessed that the unsub was hiding just behind the window curtain, as if it was a game of hide-and-seek. 

No one had thought the unsub was a woman, either. A small, but very strong woman.

The victim had screamed, causing Kit and Elle to turn and look just as Morgan was tackling the unsub away from them. The two grappled before hitting a pole, and then the ground. When Morgan stopped fighting and started swearing, Elle pulled the unsub from the floor and put her in cuffs. 

“Give me a second, Morgan, give me a second I’ve almost-”

Kit cut off as the binding on the victim’s hands came loose, catching her around the middle as she started to crumple. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” Kit said with no room in her voice for disagreement. She lowered the woman to the floor, and looked again for injuries, now spotting the place where she’d been stabbed in the shoulder. 

“Kit-”

“Hold on, Morgan. Ma’am? Can you tell me your name?”

The woman’s sobs caught as she fought to focus on Kit’s question. “Karissa. It’s- my name is Karissa.”

“Morgan, get up, I need help here,” she called over her shoulder.

“I can’t,” he said with just as much heat. “My shoulder’s out of place.”

_ Shit. _

She pulled at her earpiece with one hand, putting pressure on the stab wound and hoping Hotch would hear her. “Hotch? I need backup, and EMS. Morgan’s down.”

Kit had been the one to reset Morgan’s shoulder as soon as EMS took over with Karissa, and she gave Hotch strict directions to take him into the clinic, promising she’d catch up with them as soon as things were sorted with local law. She had two jobs, after all, and with them being just outside the district, there was no reason she needed to rush away.

Monty had been the one on shift when they got there, and while Morgan complained and fought with Hotch, the unit chief had said that somehow, the fact that she and Monty were identical had calmed a very agitated Morgan down pretty well. 

At least that was what Hotch told her when she got there to find Morgan in a sling with rehab papers, and Monty and Hotch both looking satisfied.

Kit said it was their Irish charm.

Hotch said she was full of shit.

\-----

“Ow, ow! Lep, stop!”

She let go right away, hands in front of her so he could see she was stepping back. “Sorry. Okay, we’re done. We’ll do more tomorrow.”

Rehab had proved to be a battle. 

Derek Morgan was kind of a baby.

“We can do more in a minute,” he said, shaking his head and wincing, but she disagreed quickly. “No, you’re done. We can do more tomorrow, downstairs.”

“But when are you going to clear me?”

_ Ah, there it is _ .

“I’ll clear you when you’re ready,” she said. They’d been through it a million times. “When you have full range of motion without pain, you’ll be cleared to go in the field again. Be patient.”

He grumbled, crossing his arms, but then wincing and uncrossing them. She crossed her own, feeling his annoyance and discomfort pulsing through the room.

“Listen,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in the conference room; where they’d been doing the in-office work. She sat on the table, and he frowned before sitting. “I don’t want this to be how it’s going either. Do you think I like going in the field with anyone else as my backup?”

He sighed and shook his head lightly, not meeting her eyes. “I feel like I’m not pulling my weight.”

“Derek,” she said, crossing her ankles. “You literally dislocated your shoulder because you stopped a sociopath with a knife from charging Elle and I. I think you’ve done more than pull your weight.”

“But now I’m doing nothing,” he insisted, gesturing with his good arm towards the bullpen. “Sitting here doing files one handed while you all go out and take down the bad guys.”

“No,” she said, “you can’t think about it like that. You’re still traveling; you went with us to Portland last week. You’re still working on the profile and walking the crime scene. You can still talk to families and witnesses.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “But I left you and Elle and Hotch out there to run point when that’s my job. You’re in more danger because I’m not there.”

It was her turn to shake her head, putting a hand on his good shoulder. “We’re okay. You’ve seen my Hogan’s Alley scores. Elle’s are just as good.”

“Not Reid,” he said, and she laughed quietly. “I’ll watch Reid. We all watch Reid. He’s been holding his own, you know. He did a really good job with the takedown on the last one. Even Hotch said so.”

She stopped for a second and raised an eyebrow at him, taking her voice to a whisper. “Hotch even said his stance looked a little like yours.”

“Shut up,” he said, though there was the ghost of a smile on his face. “No he didn’t.”

“He totally did,” she assured, watching and Derek noticeably relaxed. 

_ Maybe this rehab isn’t just physical. Maybe it’s mental too. _

“Come on,” she said, jumping off the table and holding out her hand. He raised an eyebrow at her, but bit anyway. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to see how long it takes Reid to classify the cases of the year in order. If it takes longer than three minutes, you owe me the five. I know you have it.”

He stared at her for a second before the weight lifted off of him, optimism and confidence flooding into the space and overwhelming the annoyance and disappointment of the last half hour. The smile creeping across his face told her everything she needed to know.

“Your loss, he can do it in two.”


	12. My BFF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - My BFF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back y'all.

JJ had brought the game under the guise that they could only play so much poker in a five hour flight. 

Kit knew that it was really because Hotch would never let them play five hours of poker on the jet. Someone would come away wounded.

She also knew it was for her benefit. She’d been working between sites for two months, and she didn’t know much about anyone on the team, save for Morgan. Even with their morning workouts, they were surface level friends at best. 

Somehow she thought that it might have been Hotch behind it, but she couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t going to ask. While still holding fast to the mantra that she wasn’t a part of the BAU team, the more they made an attempt to include her, the more she wished it were true.

“Okay, this one says, who’s your best friend?”

“Lame,” Elle said, her small grin full of mirth. Morgan nodded, “Yeah, that’s a boring one. Why do you always pick the most mellow cards, Jayje?”

JJ pouted momentarily. “You have to pick off the top, Morgan. What was I supposed to do, look through the cards until I found one I liked? That’s cheating.”

“Actually, I don’t think you can cheat in games like this, because there isn’t a point system. No winner, or loser, would be affected by the cards chosen.”

“This isn’t a game you can win,” Kit said, “If there isn’t a point system, how would you win at all?”

Reid thought for a moment with his eyebrows pulled together before he looked over at JJ and said simply. “This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say it was a game,” JJ said evenly, though the annoyance radiating off of her was entirely palpable. Elle shrugged as she and Morgan shared a look, but Spencer wasn’t done. “Actually, you said ‘Okay everyone, we aren’t playing cards for five hours, we’re playing a game that’-”

“Who’s your best friend, Reid?” Elle said, effectively both cutting off his verbatim quote of JJ from an hour before, and his impending death-by-Kit-glare if he continued. She hated when he quoted someone back to themselves. It felt like Reid trying to show off, and she  _ hated _ a show off. 

Reid was clearly caught off guard, though he was the one next to JJ. The rule was that everyone had to answer but the person holding the card, and Reid was seated on JJ’s other side. “Oh, um. I don’t know. Morgan?”

“Aw, thanks Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, heckling from across the table. “I’ll say you, but just because you said me, and you make the coffee in the breakroom almost good compared to the way Elle makes it.”

Elle, who was next to Morgan, rolled her eyes and shoved at him. “Listen, that coffee sucks without my help.”

“Who’s your best friend, Elle?” JJ asked, she and Kit sharing the same laugh as they watched the two bicker back and forth. Elle thought for a second before she said, “I guess Liza. She and I went through the academy together, and then we were both in Seattle. We get together when she’s in town and try to talk, but…” She trailed off and gestured vaguely, but they all knew. Kit nodded along with the others. She felt like she barely ever talked to her siblings anymore, especially the ones she didn’t live with. The BAU was running them all ragged, one day at a time.

Elle looked up at Kit, nodded at her. “Alright, Lep. You’re last, go ahead.”

“Hotch and Gideon didn’t go,” Kit said, nodding towards the men on the other side of the jet. They both insisted they were not playing, but they’d still been asked every question, and both had answered with little to no interest.

“Haley,” Hotch said easily, without even looking up from his file.

“David Rossi,” Gideon said, barely glancing up from his book before looking back down.

The group of five around the table were silent for a second before Elle nodded, looking over at Kit and saying, “Okay, there you go. Haley and David Rossi.”

“Who’s yours?” JJ said, giving Kit a small, encouraging smile.

Kit took a breath and tilted her head. “Um. Oh, okay. Monty, easily.”

“Monty isn’t your best friend,” Morgan said, and Kit raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no?”

“No, she’s your identical twin sister who you work and live with. That’s not friendship, that’s codependency.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at him, eyes going hard and defensive. She knew he was joking, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Okay, so, Ari then?”

“Don’t you all live together?” Reid asked, tactlessly. “That would make Morgan’s reasoning sound for both your… twins? Siblings? How are you supposed to phrase that?”

“Cúpla,” she said easily, “Ari and I aren’t identical twins.”

“You’re in a set of triplets,” Elle pointed out. “I think that counts.”

_ These fucking people. _

“Okay, well, then…” Kit trailed off, ears burning as she realized she didn’t really  _ have _ any friends that weren’t Ari or Monty. They spent their time together on Sundays, the only day they all had off, and Kit saw Ari in the evenings and Monty leaving work. All her other time was spent in the clinic, or at the BAU.

“Then?” JJ prompted, and Kit sighed and looked away from their group. “Then I guess I don’t have one.”

“You don’t talk with any of the girls from the clinic?” Morgan asked, and Kit shook her head. 

Elle prompted further, “What about your academy roommate?”

“Monty,” she said quietly, one hand coming up to tug at her left braid while the other slid along the leg of her pants. 

Morgan spoke again, gently throwing an elbow in her direction, “No secret boyfriend?”

She knew he was teasing. He was trying to bring the mood back up; the mood she’d clearly just crushed by admitting that she didn’t have any friends at all. “I don’t have time for a secret boyfriend, even if I wanted one,” Kit said, rolling her eyes and swatting at his shoulder. 

Reid looked confused at the other end of the table, next to Elle. “We have a two day weekend every week. Surely if you wanted to go out, you could go on either Friday or Saturday night without seeing sleep repercussions?”

Kit shook her head. This conversation was very quickly going from sort of sad to super depressing. “I work Saturdays in the clinic. My only day off during the week is Sunday, and if we’re on a case, I don’t get a day off at all.”

“You work six days a week?” JJ asked, clearly unaware. Kit didn’t care, she’d never told them, and hadn’t anticipated it coming up. She didn’t really care. Why would she?

She was sort of glad the conversation was scooting away from her lack of any conceivable friendship.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I have to keep my hours balanced. Three days with you, three days with them.”

“That doesn’t leave you a lot of personal time for friends.” Elle crossed one leg over the other, actively wrangling the conversation back into the super depressing. Kit wished she would have left it alone, but she knew it was strange. What twenty five year old had literally no friends?

They were quiet again for far too long. Kit refused to look up, or around, or at anything at all. She focused on the dryness of her hands, constantly chapped and raw from washing and washing in the clinic. She was startled when, out of anyone sitting there, Reid spoke up. 

“You talk to us,” he said simply.

The other three nodded immediately, words tumbling and spilling as if they’d all been wanting to speak up, and now the floodgate was open for them.

“You came to my apartment when I got strep,” JJ said. “I wouldn’t have called anyone but a friend for that.”

“And I’ve never had a better training partner,” Morgan said, “No one else is competitive enough.”

“I didn’t think anyone else would share the same taste in music as I do, but then we caught you at the bar, and I knew you were cool before, but that really sold it.”

Kit looked around at them before feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She knew what they were doing, of course, but the feelings coming off of them were genuine. They meant what they said, and she was incredibly grateful. She didn’t let the tears that threatened to prick get any further than a threat, but she had to physically swallow and clear her throat before she could speak.

“Thank you. All of you. I guess… I guess you guys are my best friends.”

Morgan scoffed, giving her a smirk and nodding towards Reid. “You may have to fight Pretty Ricky over there for it,” he said, watching for Reid’s reaction, which was exactly what they all expected it to be.

“‘Best’' is a qualifier of relative quality, which means that its place as a superlative adjective makes it of a singular quantity. Superlative adjectives are used to show-”

“You can have more than one best friend, Spence,” JJ said, cutting him off and nodding toward Kit, who’s cheeks lit a similar color to her hair. He seemed to realize and read the situation, though he’d already shoved his foot in his mouth, and instead of continuing just said quietly, “Right. Yeah, obviously. The world isn’t a thesis.”

“The world isn’t a thesis,” Elle echoed before nudging the deck of questions towards him. “Your turn, Doctor Reid.”

He fidgeted with his fingers before pulling the top card from the deck, reading aloud, “What is your favorite color?”

“No!”

“Throw the whole game away!”

“It’s not a game! We’ve established that this does not meet the qualities that allow something to be a game!”

“Shut up, Reid!”

Kit watched as the jet settled, all of the attention being pulled away from her as a warm presence settled in her chest. 

_ Yes. These people, who drive me crazy, and have no concept of personal care of any kind. These people are my best friends. _


End file.
